


Paternity

by The_Asset6



Category: Final Fantasy XV
Genre: Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Fluff, Gen, Little!Noct
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-01
Updated: 2017-12-01
Packaged: 2019-02-08 23:06:11
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,363
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12874971
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/The_Asset6/pseuds/The_Asset6
Summary: Fifteen years ago, King Regis Lucis Caelum founded the Kingsglaive to protect Lucis from imperial invasion.Fifteen years ago, Regis would rather have been somewhere else.





	Paternity

**Author's Note:**

  * For [roguehearted](https://archiveofourown.org/users/roguehearted/gifts).



> This is a very special story written for a very special person on their very special day. As such, I hope you will join me in wishing a happy birthday to the wonderful [Roguehearted](https://archiveofourown.org/users/roguehearted/pseuds/roguehearted)\--my friend, my favorite fic writer, and my talented coauthor. There is a fleeting flashback in Chapter Thirteen that I have built this story around. I hope you enjoy it, Rogue. <3

“Dad, can we go to the gardens?”

“I don’t see why not.”

Warmth spread through his chest when Noctis’s face lit up with incandescent glee. “Cool! I wanna show you my friend.”

“Your friend?” asked Regis, quirking an eyebrow curiously. The nod he received by way of response had him concerned that Noctis would injure himself, he was so emphatic.

“Yeah! I found him all by myself.”

“Is that so?”

Noctis hesitated at his subtle skepticism, his smile turning bashful as he systematically picked the microscopic chunks of tomato out of his omelet. “Uh…Ignis helped a _little_.”

“I see,” Regis mused. It was seldom that Noctis went anywhere without his future advisor, so great was their attachment to one another. Therefore, he was rather unsurprised to learn that Ignis had likely been the driving force behind Noctis’s discovery. He had no doubt, however, that chuckling at what his son would deem an inopportune moment qualified as a gauche response at best. Instead, he hastily inquired, “And does this _friend_ have a name?”

“Oh, yeah!” Noctis perked up immediately, his five-year-old sensibilities not at all hampered by the minuscule white lie he’d told since there were no tangible consequences forthcoming. In spite of his eagerness, his enthusiasm quickly gave way to frustration as he attempted to answer, “We called him Bar… Barth… _Bart_ …”

Hiding his smile was a trial, but Regis had been well trained in the art of maintaining flawless control over his expressions. He thought he could watch Noctis struggle to form that admittedly advanced word forever, even if the sentiment might have seemed a touch cruel. Could anyone fault him, though? His little boy was growing up so fast, yet in moments like these, Regis was reminded that he still had many long years ahead of him before he transformed into the young man Regis feared he would become too soon. If these fleeting seconds, these passing joys of paternity were all he could keep of Noctis’s youth, then he would savor every last one.

For now, however, he chose to take pity on his son before Noctis’s irritation could reach its zenith and suggested, “Bartholomew?”

“Uh-huh, _that_ ,” confirmed Noctis, a relieved smile smoothing away the wrinkles of annoyance that had creased his forehead.

Ah, so it was _that_ friend. It was not often that Ignis came to Regis with concerns, but he had been quick to find him the previous week when Noctis had chosen to befriend one of the stray cats that frequented the gardens. Even his most persuasive reassurances had not been enough to shake Ignis’s conviction that the creature carried some sort of illness that Noctis would undoubtedly contract if he was allowed in its presence—such was the logic inherent in seven-year-olds, it seemed. Ignis had a good head on his shoulders; he always had, which was one of the reasons Regis had chosen him as Noctis’s confidant. Nevertheless, there were times when his own maturity and perhaps too extensive sense of caution hindered his ability to enjoy the little things. It was pleasing to know that he clearly had not won their argument over keeping Noctis away from the cat: a bit of creature comfort would be good for them both, in Regis’s opinion.

It also helped that he’d had the animal checked for any sort of disease or parasite the following day and was satisfied that it was quite harmless. Easing Ignis’s mind did not mean he was foolish enough not to have concerns of his own.

Noctis did not need to know about that, though. His infectious grin at the thought that he had so aptly drawn his new companion into his painfully small circle of friends was too intoxicating to diminish with unnecessary truths.

“What a fitting name,” Regis remarked with an indulgent smile. “Am I right in assuming that Ignis was behind the idea?”

Huffing an exaggerated sigh, Noctis whined, “ _Yeah_. He said it’d be funny ‘cause cats go _mew_.”

“It does have a certain ring to it.”

“It’s _stupid_ ,” he grumbled, biting a chunk out of his toast with rather unnecessary force. Clearly, he was too young to appreciate a cleverly formulated pun.

Regis’s job was not to teach him the finer points of humor, however, so he settled with a gentle reprimand: “I’m certain that Ignis thought the name would be to your liking.”

Perhaps he was biased—no, he most certainly _was_ biased—but the compassion Noctis was capable of displaying at such a young age never failed to amaze and delight Regis. He was uncommonly kind even to those he did not trust, and when it came to his friends, there was no room for more loyalty in his deceptively tiny heart. At the mention of Ignis’s feelings on the matter, his pouting ceased, and he set aside his own disdain to shrug a shoulder in resignation.

“I guess it’s a okay name.”

“ _An_ ,” corrected Regis affectionately, chortling when Noctis rolled his eyes with a dramatic flair distinctive to young children. In an attempt to ease the sting of two rebukes delivered within the span of a few seconds, he redirected the conversation to a safer subject. “What else would you like to do today? We can visit the gardens and meet Bartholomew…”

Gasping excitedly, Noctis seemed to forget all about his brief frustration with something so trivial as proper grammar and bounced on the edge of his seat. “Yeah, yeah! I can show you my picture!”

“Your _picture_?” inquired Regis with a mirroring expression of anticipation. “What picture would this be?”

“’m not telling! It’s a _surprise_ ,” insisted Noctis in a whisper, as though bandits might be waiting to snatch his precious treasure should he divulge its contents.

Regis nodded, his sigh equally exaggerated. “Well, if I must wait, then I am sure it will be worth it.”

“It _will_. And Master Clarus got me this book—it’s got all kinds’a fish in it! There’s the Galdin Tre… Uh, the one from the beach, and there’s one from all the way in _Duscae_! Oh, and it’s got a map! There’s a big list in the back with all the different fishes—”

As Noctis commenced rambling about the new obsession his Shield had indeed recounted to him, Regis merely leaned forward to listen with his elbows on the table and a small smile on his face. Days like these did not come often: it was a rarity that he was able to shirk his royal responsibilities and spend time with his son as nothing more than a father. Most of his attention was monopolized by council meetings and strategic sessions with any number of advisors, all clamoring for his presence and input at every hour of the day and night. As such, it was frequently the case that he did not arrive at his son’s chambers until well after his bedtime, not that that deterred Noctis from staying up well _past_ it in order to see him. Perhaps Regis was irresponsible as a parent for allowing and even silently encouraging such behavior, but when it meant that he could sit with his child for a little while and tell him stories that would hopefully foster pleasant dreams, there were few reasons he could fathom that should convince him to do otherwise.

Days like today, however, were special. On days like today, he could set his crown aside and while away the hours with his son, not just the stolen seconds they were able to snatch from the void where all wasted moments wound up.

Regis was glad to see that he was not the only one who appreciated these rare yet invaluable occurrences—not yet, at least. When he’d greeted Noctis in his room that morning and told him that they could spend the day together, his face had erupted into a blinding grin with the joy of knowing that he would have Regis’s undivided attention for a change. The warmth that had spread through him at the sight was nowhere near enough to drown out his residual bitterness: it was appalling that his son was destined to feel nothing but pleasant _surprise_ at the idea that his own father finally had a few moments to devote purely to him. Other parents, ones who had no more pressing responsibilities than to make their children happy and provide for their every need, did not endure such torment. Regis could see them from the upper levels of the Citadel, wandering the city and enjoying all that it had to offer with their families. What he wouldn’t have given to be able to do the same with his own son, to be able to take Noctis to zoos and aquariums and parks without innumerable eyes watching their every step. On the occasions when they did venture out, Regis was not merely a man with his son: he would always be king in the eyes of his people, and they treated him as such. After a while, once Noctis was old enough to understand both the adoring gazes and shouted abuses in turn, it had been more trouble than it was worth.

No amount of wishing that he could be a normal father raising a normal son would make it so, however. The years and his own childhood had taught him that. Instead, Regis was determined to be grateful for what time he did get with Noctis while he was still young enough to not find embarrassment in his father’s presence. It would not be long before that changed, so days like this? They were a blessing, to be sure.

That was why he should have known it was not meant to be.

Just as Noctis was embarking on a particularly energetic reenactment of Ignis nearly falling into one of the small pools in the gardens while they were observing the wildlife that lived there (Regis suspected it was less that he had tripped and more that he had been _pushed_ , but he would not argue), the doors to the dining room opened. One of the guards stationed outside entered, bowing deeply in both deference and apology.

“Your Majesty, Marshal Leonis requests an audience.”  

Frowning, Regis shot Noctis a reassuring smile before he called back, “Please tell him that any matter he wishes to discuss will have to wait.”

“He claims it is urgent, Your Majesty,” was his reluctant reply, and Regis could see in his eyes that he did not wish to trouble them so. If nothing else, it had already taken him a great deal of courage to interrupt their breakfast as it was.

Mealtimes, when Regis was able to attend, were strictly and exclusively reserved for family. The moments during which he could step away from his duties were few; when Noctis was born and particularly after Aulea died, Regis had been adamant that he find that time, however seldom. It was sacred, so he did not allow business to follow him to the table, nor did he attempt to regale Noctis with tales of the goings on in Lucis. He was too young for that, and Regis was far more interested in hearing about his childhood misadventures than anything else during the brief instances where they were in each other’s company for longer than a few seconds.

Everyone in the Citadel knew that they were not to be disturbed when they were seated to a meal. If Cor believed this matter to be urgent enough to interrupt, especially when he was well aware that Regis was taking a step back from his responsibilities today, then it must indeed be of great importance.

“Send him in,” ordered Regis with a sigh. So much, then, for their perfect day.

Noctis, bless him, was none the wiser with regards to what this would undoubtedly mean for them. He was not yet endowed with the ability to understand the trials of ruling; all he knew was that a visit from the marshal was an oddity, not that the likely consequences would result in a situation neither of them would relish. Only innocence stared back at him from those fragile blue eyes, his mouth hanging open a bit in curiosity. It was almost more than Regis could bear.

Any futile hope he may have harbored that perhaps he could still preserve some modicum of their original plan died when Cor entered the dining room, his expression grim and shoulders set in a rigid line. The marshal had ever been a serious character, even during the early years of his tenure; Regis had recognized that when they met, so long ago now that he could scarcely believe it. While his typical stony façade was well known around the Citadel, however, this was a different sort of stoicism that never boded well for anyone involved. No, the man who walked through the door was not here to remind him of some forgotten obligation or unexpected visitors, and Regis steeled himself against whatever onslaught would be thrown his way on this particular occasion.

“My apologies for interrupting, Your Majesty,” announced Cor as he came to stand directly at Regis’s side with an unadorned, efficient genuflection. The warm smile he leveled at Noctis did not reach his eyes, and he lowered his voice so that the latter would not overhear the marshal’s words when he murmured without preamble, “There was a skirmish on the northern border during the night.”

Of course. It would have to be the empire if Cor deemed this matter of such vital importance.

“How extensive was the damage?” Regis inquired immediately, matching his tone despite Noctis’s curious gaze piercing into the side of his head.

“We are still awaiting a final count of casualties, but they number in the dozens thus far. Most were civilians.”

Regis closed his eyes. Had the empire no honor, no decency? Well, that was an easily answered question: there was not a decent bone in Emperor Aldercapt’s aging body, nor had he ever cared overmuch for the lives that stood between himself and his conquests. Civilians… Regis did not have to ask whether that included women and children, knowing already what the response would be. A professional, detached sense of grief nested in the depths of Cor’s eyes, and Regis was grateful that he did not mention the details aloud lest Noctis potentially decipher the subject of their hushed conversation. When it came to their relationship—or lack thereof—with the empire, Regis offered little in the way of information to his son outside of that which he would learn through the natural course of his studies. If he could provide even an ounce of reassurance to him by keeping him ignorant of terrible matters likes these, then he would do so without question or hesitation. Noctis’s adult years would be marred by the stress of his reign and everything that came with it; Regis refused to allow his childhood to become tainted as well.

Whether it was the will of the Six or simply unhappy chance, however, it appeared that the odds were stacked against him. Even if he could spare Noctis from living in the shadow of the empire’s might too soon, there was no denying that there were other consequences that could not be avoided.

“Were there any survivors?” he asked quietly, not entirely certain whether he was more relieved or irritated when Cor nodded.

“The refugees will arrive at the West Gate within the hour.” The marshal paused for only a moment, a remorseful yet resolute look on his face when he added, “Your presence will be required to ensure their safe passage through the Wall.”

There it was, as he had both expected and dreaded in equal measures. They’d come to it at last: the reason that his kingdom would give for tearing him away from his son’s side yet again. It was duty, pure and simple, and he remembered his father encountering similar circumstances over the years. How many of their meals had ended prematurely so that King Mors could attend to other business? How often had he apologized for not being there when Regis needed him only to do nothing differently the next time, and the next? When Regis had made the jarring shift from king to father, he finally understood: a monarch made decisions that would impact many for decades to come, not least of which their own children. Those choices were not always as easily palatable as he would have liked.

That knowledge did not ease the pain of knowing he would be leaving Noctis on his own today after he’d sworn that they would be together. In a sense, it was an ironic twist of fate: a king’s word was his currency, yet when it came to his own family, it meant nothing whatsoever. The kingdom had to come first—their people had to come first. Although Noctis’s well-being would always be at the fore of his mind as a father, it could not be his priority as king.

Today, Noctis remained young enough that he would not realize that to be the case. In time, he would. Not today, not tomorrow, perhaps not even for quite a few years yet—but the sun would rise on a day when he would come to hate Regis just as thoroughly as he had hated his own father before he found himself in the same position. Such was the nature of monarchy.

And he _was_ the monarch, like it or not.

There was no delaying his inevitable departure, so Regis did not bother trying. It was wishful thinking to the point of foolishness to hope that he would be able to preserve at least some time with Noctis if he hastened to the gate, but he had to entertain it if only for Noctis’s sake. Otherwise, his smile would not have been convincing as he rose from his seat and stepped past Cor to kneel beside Noctis’s chair at the other end of the table.

“You’re leaving?” he inquired in a small voice, his eyes filled with disappointment and the beginnings of tears. In moments like these, Regis silently cursed the Six for blessing him with such an intelligent and intuitive son.

Reinforcing his weak grin, Regis nodded regretfully. “I am afraid that there are matters of great importance that I must attend to.”

“When’re you gonna be back?”

“I cannot say,” he replied honestly. His promises might have meant nothing, his best intentions might have been reduced to useless words, but never let it be said that he did not at least attempt to tell his child the truth whenever possible.

“Oh…”

Regis swallowed hard at the sight of Noctis’s face falling impossibly further and his eyes seeking out the ground, but he could not falter in this. So, gently placing his fingers underneath his chin, he urged Noctis to meet his gaze when he continued, “When I _do_ return, I want to meet your friend and see that book of yours just like we agreed. Would that be all right?”

Noctis needn’t have answered when the instant brightening of his expression did so for him. Still, he bounced a little in his seat and demanded with an almost jarring sort of intensity, “Promise?”

Regis’s heart should not have shattered yet again with that one word. His breath shouldn’t have caught in his chest, and his stomach shouldn’t have dropped down to accompany his feet. They did so regardless, because he was struck once more by the sheer innocence contained in that small body, so pure and trusting in ways that Regis was positive he did not deserve.

One broken heart between them was more than enough, so he did not use this moment to instill in his son that sense of cynicism that would develop on its own as he grew older. Instead, he smiled wetly and nodded, murmuring, “I promise.”

_So much for honesty._

For now, the lie was worth it if for no other reason than that Regis was able to take Noctis’s radiant grin and tight hug with him when he left his son alone in the dining room.

 

***

 

The sight that greeted them when they arrived at the gate was, to put it bluntly, a travesty.

Through the windows of the Regalia, it was simple for Regis to see what it was Cor meant when he said the situation was urgent. There were women, children, the elderly—all of them covered in dirt and grime from the long journey to Insomnia. There had not been time to send transportation for them, not when their resources were already stretched thin protecting the border of their capital. Now that Regis was witnessing the extent of the devastation in the eyes of his people, however, he doubted whether he would have been able to send enough aid even if he had been informed of the attack sooner. After all, despite the plentiful guards Regis ensured were constantly stationed at the gate, they were vastly outnumbered by refugees clamoring to be let in. If not for the Wall, he had no doubt that they would have burst into the city by now, so great was their determination even in the face of their despair.

Before his driver slowed to a halt, Regis was already sliding out of the back seat and mentally preparing himself for the task ahead of him. With so many of his people suffering, with his own assistance coming either too little or too late, it was in times of this nature that he felt the most helpless with their situation. The empire was a formidable foe, and not even the power of the Crystal lent Regis enough sway to turn the tide of this seemingly eternal, senseless war. Regardless, he was their king for better or for worse. If the best that he could do was to ensure their safety within the walls of Insomnia, then that was what must be done.  

Making his way towards the chaos with his head held high and his Shield following closely on his heels, Regis surveyed the scene before him with grim resignation. Even from this distance, he could hear shouts of indignation at the fact that the refugees could not enter the capital of their own country, that they had come all this way only to be turned away at their destination. To their credit, the gate watch did their best to explain the situation; they knew better than anyone the risk of allowing visitors into the Crown City without first ensuring that they meant its residents no harm. For these poor people, there was shelter and food to be found in a place of relative strength. If Insomnia fell to the empire as their home had, where would they go? Would they be able to leave, or would this sprawling urban mass be their grave?

Only the glowing Wall that stretched over top of the gate allowed him to avoid answering such questions, even in his own mind. Only the Crystal where it resided in the Citadel kept him from merely counting the days until the empire crushed them beneath its iron fist.

That knowledge was his to bear, as was the burden it deposited on his shoulders. His people, however, were not gifted with that sense of responsibility and knew not what they were saying when they shouted abuses at those tasked with keeping them all safe.

So, Regis did not lose his temper, and he greatly appreciated it when he saw that the guards were managing to do the same. Rather, he nodded to the captain on duty and stepped up to the gate, raising a hand for quiet from their new arrivals.

A few seconds passed where no one appeared to recognize him much less register his presence. Then, one by one, the refugees fell silent and stared at him with slack jaws and wide eyes. He supposed he should not have been surprised: it was rare that he was able to leave Insomnia, and he was well aware that images of himself and Noctis were not often distributed or displayed outside the Crown City. It was no fault of his own, much as he would have liked to change that unfortunate denouement. The Crystal required his presence in order to maintain the Wall, and Noctis was not of an age to venture outside the Citadel on his own let alone visit remote parts of Lucis. In another life, Regis would have accompanied him on journeys to Galdin and Lestallum, even taking him as far as Ravatogh to see the famous landmark of their fair kingdom. Thus far, it was not to be, regardless of whether he had the time to spare. As a result, his very existence was an understandably distant and oftentimes surreal concept to his subjects in the outlying regions.

A rather shocking number of the assemblage seemed to identify him on sight, and those who did not were able to glean as much from the plentiful whispers that spread through the crowd before they finally fell silent in front of their monarch. It was only then that Regis offered them a comforting smile and held his arms openly at his side.

“Insomnia welcomes you,” he called in a carrying voice. “We understand the trials you have faced and the losses you have suffered. In order to ensure your safety and that you receive the care you require, it is necessary that you enter the gate individually, but do not be alarmed. Families will not be separated, and accommodations will be provided for each household.”

What an ironic notion, one that Regis chose not to dwell on as the refugees reluctantly yet efficiently scrambled into some semblance of order at his words. After all, it had always been the case that the families of his subjects came before his own. It was far less discomfiting to submerge himself in his duties than consider the separation he presently suffered, however, so he stepped aside and observed as the gate watch began the slow process of admitting each refugee into Insomnia.

He had not been lying, nor had he told the entire truth: it _was_ necessary that only one person entered at a time, although it was not quite for the reasons he had given. The power of the Crystal, however limited by his own weakness, was nevertheless immense. There were still occasions, after all these years, when he marveled at its great and terrible potential. It had once safeguarded a substantial portion of the kingdom and still guarded the center of their civilization; it provided security to the people of Insomnia so that when they glanced up, they could smile to see that peace reigned for another day.

Yet it also drained him of the energy that a man his age should have had were they in different circumstances. Maintaining the Wall alone made his joints ache and his muscles strain to merely hold his weight some days; in times of difficulty, he had been forced to utilize even more of that power until he was hardly able to get out of bed afterward. Manipulating the magical barrier that separated them from the dangers lurking outside, allowing what looked to be hundreds of survivors into the city without leaving them open to attack, utilizing the magic of the gods as though he was one himself—it would be more taxing than anyone could fathom. The sheer enormity of the task dictated that he create a space for them to pass through that was relatively small, easily opened and easily closed.

No one else needed to know that, although there was no escaping the somber eyes of his Shield and marshal as he individually allowed each and every refugee beyond the gate. The former in particular stuck close to his side, as always, and glared down the line with increasing frustration. It had not seemed possible, but there were more than either of them had realized at first glance—more, even, than Cor had reported. Each had to be strictly documented upon entry to verify their identities, and lodgings would be provided where they could be observed for the next few days at the very least. Otherwise, there was no telling whether one of the enemy happened to sneak in alongside the innocent. That, fortunately, was not a job for Regis or his senior officers. While the Crystal offered him many advantages, seeing into the hearts and minds of others was not one of them. Instead, he delegated the task to those who were best suited to judge their new arrivals, particularly at his Shield’s behest.

“You worry too much, Clarus,” he murmured once he lost count of how many poor souls he had shepherded through the Wall. His Shield’s gaze was piercing when he glanced sidelong at him.

“Perhaps it is that Your Majesty does not worry enough.”

“I am well aware of my limits.”

It was a testament to how well they knew one another that he could tell Clarus was battling the urge to roll his eyes with immense difficulty. “It is not a question of whether you _know_ your limits, but one of how frequently you flout them.”

“Every now and again, I suppose that rules are meant to be broken,” Regis suggested, shrugging a shoulder.

“Says the king,” muttered Cor as he strode by on his way to the other end of the gate, where a dispute appeared to have broken out between two of their new arrivals. Clarus chose not to comment, but Regis could tell that his Shield would have spoken in a similar vein if not for the fact that he was too concerned with his own welfare to do so.

If he was being honest, Regis knew that he was rapidly approaching his all too mortal threshold, yet there was no stopping until the task was done. There was no one else who could take up his role, not even temporarily, so it fell to him. On an ordinary day, this would not have been such a trying endeavor: few people ventured through the gate to Leide, and offering passage to one vehicle was much simpler than an entire crowd. The latter required concentration, control, and an innate sense of how much energy he must expend. Momentary, fleeting interruptions were hardly a drop in the barrel of his daily burden, and Regis was filled with relief when his part in this mission was finally accomplished.

Well, in a sense. There was no escaping the vacant expressions of his subjects when they trudged through the gate, some with their families shakily in tow while others were conspicuously alone. There was no retreating to the Regalia and leaving behind the weeping, the confusion, the curiosity as to what they were meant to do next.

That was why he did not. Although his eyes ached to check his watch and his mind quietly reminded him that the sun was rapidly approaching the western sky, Regis forced himself to focus his attention on his subjects the way a king was supposed to. It was not necessarily his duty to remain at the border for the next few hours, speaking with individual refugees and reassuring them that everything would be taken care of; it was not necessarily his duty to personally ensure that food was brought for them while they waited to be transported to temporary housing.

It _was_ his duty to be their light in the darkness, the beacon that would guide them in this trying time, just as any monarch should.

Even if that meant he spent much of that time wondering what his son was doing and whether Ignis had perhaps managed to distract him from what a terrible father he had been cursed with.

At least his efforts were not wasted. As he watched and spoke and listened, the beginnings of an idea began to take root in the back of his mind. It would not fix what was already broken or bring back what had been lost, but they could not continue to stand aside and allow the empire to steal from them any longer—whether it was lives or property or merely the illusion of security. Something needed to be done to halt Niflheim’s progress and reinstate a level of normality to his kingdom.

Thus far, Regis was ashamed to say that he had not done everything he probably could to safeguard his people, although he knew that his retainers would disagree. He had, of course, sent men to fight the empire wherever they approached; he had worked with Cor to ensure that the Crownsguard maintained contact with local authorities and hunters so that they could act quickly in the event of an emergency.

It was not enough. They needed more than that. His people needed more than a king who acted in absentia and sat atop his throne all day, doing little and protecting less.

They needed a symbol they could count on, and he required an extension of his hand that could reach further into Lucis than he was presently capable of doing himself.

An extension that had the full might of his power behind them.

“Cor,” he called out to the marshal with a thoughtful frown. The latter was at his side in an instant.

“Yes, Your Majesty?”

“I would like the names of every able-bodied refugee willing to fight for their kingdom.”

Now it was Cor’s turn to frown, even if Regis could tell that it was not in thought so much as skepticism. “For what purpose?”

Smiling soberly, Regis looked out over the countless survivors and pulled in a deep breath before he replied, “It is time Lucis took matters into her own hands.”

 

***

 

When they drove through the gates to the Citadel, the sun was steadily drifting towards the opposite horizon as evening spread over Insomnia. Regis didn’t dare to check the clock to see just how long he had been at the gate; too many hours had flown by since breakfast for him to believe that he would be able to salvage whatever remained of Noctis’s morale today. Clarus and Cor had been nothing if not reassuring when he left them at the border with strict orders to report to him first thing in the morning with information on potential warriors. Between the two of them, they were quite certain that they had the matter well in hand, and his Shield had subtly reminded him that children were more forgiving than Regis gave them credit for. If anyone would know, it was Clarus: his own son rarely saw his father for how often he was at Regis’s side. That did not lighten the cloud of guilt that seemed to hover over him, however, not when he remorsefully wondered how many families he would destroy in the span of his reign.

If everything went according to plan and his retainers were able to locate what he’d asked for, then the possibilities were less than comforting. So many had made the pilgrimage to Insomnia in search of shelter and security; the slums were overflowing with immigrants and refugees who had nowhere else to go and for whom Regis had no better lodgings. Time was their enemy in that regard: as the years passed and the empire only grew more ambitious, the numbers entering Insomnia were increasing at a rate that would not bode well for the state of the Crown City. There wasn’t enough time, enough money, enough resources to house them all in the sort of accommodations Regis wished were readily available. It seemed that new protesters arrived at the Citadel on a daily basis to demand better treatment that he was simply incapable of providing, and not for lack of trying. Given the circumstances, he could not help but think that the Six had indeed left him at a disadvantage. They had granted the line of Lucis Caelum the most enviable power imaginable, yet it was utterly worthless in solving the problems that plagued their kingdom now. In reality, there were times when Regis felt it caused more turmoil than it settled.

But that was not a thought worth entertaining. Their situation was dire, yes, but it was not impossible. His warriors, his knights, his glaives—if he could find them—would be their hope in this darkness. Perhaps they would not be able to deliver them from the peril that surrounded them on all sides, yet Regis had faith. He had no other option.

His driver pulled around the turnabout and stopped at the foot of the grand staircase, but Regis did not immediately get out of the car. Instead, he took a moment to simply breathe and push all thoughts of his duty to the side. They would be there waiting for him in the morning, most likely with Clarus and Cor and whatever list they were able to concoct of likely candidates for their latest defense against Niflheim. For now, he needed to take a step back and attempt to forget those faces that would haunt his dreams like so many others over the years. He needed to let King Regis retire for the evening and allow the man a chance to spread his wings.

Because when he _did_ open the door and step out into the evening breeze, it was to find that someone was waiting for _him_ —not the king.

Noctis must have been sitting out on the steps for a while, because his cheeks were reddened from the chill air when he hopped up and ran towards the car. Whether it was how long a day he had had or the nature of his burden, Regis thought he might cry at the sight: his little boy, still waiting for him even though he _knew_ he did not deserve his affection. It was late, so late that he had probably missed dinner while he was arranging for others to get theirs. Noctis should not have been out in the courtyard watching for his wayward father’s return—he should have been upstairs preparing for bed while Ignis or one of his caretakers read him a bland bedtime story. He should have been pulling the covers up over his head so that Regis would think he was asleep instead of allowing him an opportunity to explain himself.

He shouldn’t have been sprinting up to him with wide eyes and a happy smile. He shouldn’t have been as forgiving as Clarus had known he would be.

But Regis would take it while he could. Someday, his son would hate him. Someday, he would resent everything Regis was and everything that he would become, just as Regis had when he was a young prince.

It was not today. Thank every god in the heavens, it was not today.

“You’re back!” cried Noctis breathlessly. Regis blinked back the wetness in his eyes and held out his arms so that he could leap into them.

“I only wish that it were sooner,” he murmured, lifting Noctis off the ground and smiling at the little giggle that earned him. His attempt at a stern expression failed miserably when he observed, “You should be inside.”

Fiddling with one of the silver buttons on his suit jacket, Noctis shrugged without meeting his eyes. “I was…”

“Then why am I finding you out here on your own?”

“You said you’d be back,” he replied as though it were the simplest thing in the world. Regis’s heart ached when he raised his guileless gaze and added, “I waited for you.”

_I waited for you._ How often had he said that to his father when he was little more than Noctis’s age? It hadn’t taken long for him to stop, especially when he realized too soon that he was not the priority he should have been. There was no use waiting for someone who never came, not even for the meager rites that Regis desperately struggled to attend. To hear those words from his own son sent him back to a time when he was naïve enough to believe that waiting and hoping and loving someone else was enough to keep them from leaving. How young he had been back then.

The best course of action was to end this farce before Noctis came to the same conclusion. It was his job as a father to teach his son about the world, and his first lesson should undoubtedly have been that wanting something did not always mean that you would get it, especially when you were royalty. Regis should have gone inside with Noctis, sat him down, and explained that he could not spend his entire life _waiting_ when it was quite likely that Regis would not be there when it mattered most, no matter how deeply he desired it. He was only five, but that knowledge would serve him in the years to come—it would save him the pain of discovering on his own that the people you loved hurt you more than your most vicious enemies.

But he couldn’t. Regis couldn’t form the words any more than he could refuse Noctis what brief time he _did_ have to be nothing more than a father. Because it meant nothing that this moment would not last, that they could not be who they were in this fleeting instant forever, that there would come a day when Noctis sat outside and Regis did not come. Because whatever it would do to them in the future, his child had been waiting for him _now_. If it made him selfish, then so be it, but he would revel in the innocent, unconditional love in his son’s eyes for as long as he possibly could.

So, Regis pressed a kiss to Noctis’s temple and ignored the way he cringed away from the itchy whiskers that scratched at his skin. He did not check his watch or peer up at the sun, nor did he ascend the steps to see if there were any messages waiting for him. Rather, he turned to wordlessly urge his driver from the Regalia before smiling down at his little boy, who would not remain so for long.

“Would you like to take a ride, Noctis?”

Eyes blowing wide, he wriggled around to glance between Regis and the car a few times as he exclaimed, “Really?”

“Really.”

“Just us?”

“Yes,” whispered Regis with grateful nod to his retreating attendant. “Just us.”

It was rather infrequent that Regis got to drive his own car. Indeed, it seemed as though he rode in the back more often than the front these days. Therefore, it was something of a joy in itself to settle Noctis in the passenger seat and fasten his belt around him, albeit with some difficulty when his son could not sit still in his excitement.

When Regis slid into the driver’s seat and shut the door behind him, it felt like they were leaving the outside world behind and stepping into territory that was reserved only for them. There were no guards, no retainers, no dignitaries to impress. There was just a father and his son, and the weight of duty that forever sat upon Regis’s shoulders like a mantle of his station slid away as he engaged the engine and drove towards the city.

And yes, he knew that this moment would not last. He knew that upon their return, the reality of their situation would claw its way into his consciousness as it always did when he had a spare second in which to think.

For now, he could enjoy his son’s enthusiastic recounting of his day, right down to the last minute detail. He could laugh at Noctis’s childish jokes and lose himself in the feeling of dark locks between his fingers when he ruffled his hair. He could take comfort in the firm weight of his little boy’s head in his lap when he fell asleep sprawled across the center console.

Because for just this speck of time in the grand scheme of the universe, they were father and son. Tomorrow could wait.


End file.
